retrograde in motion
by ShyLikeThat
Summary: Slight AU. "Look, I'm not asking for a favor." She explained. "I'm offering a deal. A business transaction for your skills. That's it." All the signs pointed to a disastrous idea. And yet, he felt like a planet being pulled in by the gravitational orbit of the sun. YonaxHak


Title: retrograde in motion

Summary: Slight AU. "Look, I'm not asking for a favor." She explained. "I'm offering a deal. A business transaction for your skills. That's it." All the signs pointed to a disastrous idea. And yet, he felt like a planet being pulled in by the gravitational orbit of the sun.

Summary 2: His first impression of her was that she was unlike anyone he'd ever seen. His second impression of her was that for some reason, as he held her gaze, he felt a vague sense of nostalgia. But nostalgia cared not for the wounds it ripped open. A story of a princess lost in time and a disgraced soldier.

Notes: If I were to describe this story, I would say that it was a cross between Anastasia x Samurai Champloo. Imagine if the storyline didn't have the myths or the power of the dragons. I think everything would've been harder.

* * *

Lately, Hak had been seeing visions of red everywhere.

Red hair, red eyes—it was like he was being haunted by a phantom. Or was it his imagination?

"Look out!"

As if on cue, Hak dodged to his left and narrowly avoided a punch to the face. His opponent staggered forward from the force of the punch, allowing Hak to easily maneuver around the man and place a heavy blow on the back of his neck.

That should have knocked him unconscious, Hak surmised, but it seemed that his opponent was stubborn, resembling an ox both in resilience and in physical appearance.

The man forced himself up. He was dizzy from the blow, Hak could tell. They circled each other in the small ring, determining who was the predator and who was the prey.

All around them, the crowd was barbaric, calling — no, demanding for more bloodshed.

Hak cracked his neck, readying his stance and giving his opponent a taunting grin. Growling, his opponent burst forward, throwing jabs left and right which Hak easily blocked. The man managed to land a well-placed hook on Hak's side, sending him backwards. His back hit the wooden fencing with a heavy thud, though he quickly recovered and pushed himself off, making a dive as his opponent lunged after him. The man's head rammed against the hard, wooden panels.

The crowd cheered when it seemed like the man would no longer rise. Hak exhaled a sigh, more from aggravation than actual relief. Sweat dripped down his temple, his back, and his bare chest. It was hard to breathe in the godforsaken, ramshackle hut with all the people around, and his opponent's endurance this round was uncharacteristically persistent.

Someone from the crowd offered him a handkerchief to wipe himself with, which he gladly took. Turning his eyes around to thank the individual, he thought his heart-beat stopped when they met red.

Red hair, red eyes — was he dreaming?

"Aghhh!" A loud, guttural scream reverberated around the small, humid enclosure. Upon instinct, the red-haired figure fled and Hak was left to chase her with his eyes.

His opponent had resuscitated himself against all odds, and though his figure was already swaying, he was too stubborn to admit defeat.

Hak glowered, eyes narrowing in irritation. "You should have stayed down."

"We'll see about that." The man spat back.

Balling the handkerchief in his fist, Hak prepared himself as the man came charging towards him, screaming his vengeance. In one swift motion, he threw the fabric at the man's face, then twisted around and shifted his full weight into his other arm, landing a perfectly placed uppercut onto the man's cheek.

The man dropped down like a weight and the crowd was absolutely delighted, whistling and hollering upon seeing blood spurt from the man's nose and dribble down from his chin to the dirt floor.

These types of crude tournaments became popular all throughout Kouka shortly after the war ended. The aftermath of the war had left much of Kouka in disarray, and in bleak times such as this, its citizens loved a good, bloody fight to distract them from their day-to-day grievances. Hak didn't blame them, and in fact, took advantage of the games. He suited them marvelously, and though he primarily participated as a means to earn money— like all of Kouka's desperate citizens, he needed an outlet to vent his frustrations.

"All right, give me my share." Hak called lazily, fist still bloody. He walked to the outer circle of the ring to collect his dues from the game warden, who was already waiting for him with a sleazy grin.

"I can always count on you, Hak." The man said, handing him a bag of coins.

"That guy was tougher than the others have been." Hak commented absently. He found that his pride was a little hurt when the man survived the blow to the back of his neck. Usually, it was enough to end most fights.

"Yeah, well," The game warden sniffed, giving a shrug. "Nadai will do that. It takes away the pain and makes you feel invincible."

_That explains it_, Hak thought to himself smugly. With his self-assurance restored, he opened the bag and counted the coins to make sure everything was accounted for. When he gave a glance to the game warden, the man only grinned sheepishly.

"It's all there, I promise!"

He paused, wondering why he felt that he had forgotten something. Then, his eyes drifted back to the unconscious man.

_The handkerchief!_

Tying the bag of coins to his sash, he walked back to the fallen man and crouched, picking up the silky material in his calloused fingers. This was an expensive fabric, he dully thought. Turning it over for a closer inspection, Hak's eyes widened.

Scrawled in cursive were the words: _'Meet me in—'_

The other words were difficult to read, the ink smeared with blood, sweat, and dirt.

Hak cursed his luck under his breath.

* * *

"Have you been stalking me?" A soft whisper in her ear made Yona yelp, jumping in surprise. She swiveled around to meet the champion of today's game—or, rather, the champion of any games she'd ever witnessed.

He was a tall, brooding man with dark hair and dark clothes, carrying a carefully wrapped weapon on his wide shoulders, though she'd only ever seen him fight with his bare hands.

He easily towered over her by a foot.

Suddenly self-conscious, she sat up a little straighter, as if this would make any difference between their heights, and injected her voice with what she hoped was confidence. "Hak, was it?"

His first impression of her was that she was unlike anyone he'd ever seen before. Her fire-red hair and violet eyes resembled the colors of the setting sun.

His second impression was that for some reason, as he held her gaze, he felt a vague sense of nostalgia.

"You know, I hate that you already know my name and yet, I know nothing about you." He tried to sound casual, brushing off the gnawing feeling and attributing it to exhaustion from his earlier fight.

He slid himself into the old, dilapidated table across from her, briefly wondering how she even came across such a seedy, run-down bar. "So, who do I have the pleasure of meeting with today?" He asked breezily, crossing his arms.

Immediately, he could tell that the question made her visibly uncomfortable. She began to fidget, eyes quickly darting away to avoid his questioning stare.

"... who I am is not important." Yona answered carefully. "I wrote that note to you because I was interested in your skills."

"My skills." Hak repeated, nonplussed. He still couldn't let go of the way she avoided his question, but on the other hand, his ego got the better of him. Damn his pride. "How'd you find me anyway?"

At this prompt, the fogginess in her eyes seemed to lift instantaneously. It struck him, the way she wore her heart on her sleeve without even knowing.

"I've been… recruiting." Yona conceded slowly, trying to find the best way to explain everything. "I heard you were the best fighter. Although I detest these… games, I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I need someone whose—"

From the intonation of her words, he could easily discern that she was born into wealth. She possessed the formal accent of a well-educated young lady. He leaned himself into the table. "Are you from Kuuto?"

Yona blinked, pausing in her speech only to find that he had been studying her. "Have you been listening to what I'm saying?" She returned, rather testily.

That confirmed it. Only a person with privilege could speak to someone twice their size with so much entitlement.

"Yeah, yeah." Hak waved her off, leaning back into his seat. "Well, whatever it is you're planning to do, a small thing like you should just forget about it." He said rather brusquely. It wasn't because he didn't have enough confidence in his abilities, but more so because she made such an easy target.

Judging by the way her face abruptly contorted, he could tell that she obviously took offense to his words.

"Listen," Yona snapped, growing restless. "I didn't come here to ask a favor. I came here to—"

"Drinks?" A woman had suddenly interrupted, carrying a wooden tray with two cups of steaming sake.

Yona cleared her throat, composing herself. "Please."

The woman nodded, setting down the drinks. Yona thanked her. "Everyone here is so rough. It's not often I get thanked." She commented, giving Yona a small smile.

Yona returned the gesture and reached out for the cup of sake. She gave a sharp exhale before addressing the man in front of her once again. "I'm sorry if I became impatient. I just—"

"Don't drink that." Hak spoke in a lowered whisper, so only she could hear.

Sensing the sudden change in his tone, Yona set the cup down warily. As she looked towards him for an explanation, his eyes bore into hers, holding her gaze.

Yona's brows furrowed with worry. "What's wrong?"

"That's probably nadai." He explained. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know… maybe half an hour or so?"

This confirmed his growing suspicion. In that amount of time, he probably wasn't the only one who picked up on her background. As much as she tried to hide herself, her appearance, clothes, and demeanor made her stick out like a sore thumb.

"What's… nadai?" Yona asked carefully.

Hak shot her an incredulous look. "You've never heard of it?" When the young woman shook her head no, he gave a sigh.

"Just do as I say." He instructed in a soft voice. A little hesitant, Yona nodded.

She didn't know why, and it was probably a foolish idea, but she found it easy to trust him.

* * *

Remembering the words that he told her, Yona executed their plan.

"_It would be too strange if both of us just suddenly left together. I'll leave first. Drink a small sip of the sake, but do not swallow it."_

Yona picked up the cup, bringing the rim to her lips.

"_If you so much as swallow one sip, it would be difficult to restrain the desire for more. Nadai is extremely addictive."_

With trembling fingers, Yona filled her mouth with a small amount of the liquid. She held her breath, fearing that one small mistake could cause her to ingest it.

"_Wait a few minutes, then you can make your exit. Just keep walking— do not make eye contact. More than likely, someone will follow you."_

Yona stood up from the table, though winced at the sound of the chair scraping against the floor. Feeling eyes on her, she made her way to the door. As if on cue, she heard the belated steps of someone following her.

_Just keep walking, _Yona told herself, repeating Hak's words in her mind. She counted her steps to calm herself and crossed the threshold outside the bar. Suddenly, as she stepped onto the humid night, a muffled thud resounded, making her jump.

Behind her, Hak held the unconscious man in his arms. He set him down and positioned him, so that it looked like he was slumped against the side of the building.

"There. They'll just think he got drunk out of his mind." Hak said with the assurance of a job well done.

Yona immediately spat out the liquid that she had been holding inside her mouth. Hak reached into the inner folds of his robe and pulled out a leather container. He offered it to her with an outstretched hand.

Grateful, Yona took a swig of the container before similarly sputtering out the offending swill. "What is this?" She croaked, mouth burning.

"Distilled liquor." Hak merely said, giving a grin. "To wash out the remnants of nadai."

"Thanks, I guess." Yona said, making a face.

"You know, after all that, you really shouldn't be accepting drinks from strangers." Hak pointed out. "For all you know, I could've drugged you as well."

The ghost of a smile reached Yona's lips. "Ahh, but you didn't." She returned. "And on top of that, you even helped me out."

Hak opened his mouth to say a retort, though promptly closed it when he realized he didn't have anything witty to say back. Instead, he took a swig of his flask and shrugged. "Maybe you're lucky."

"No, I was right to trust you." Yona said, turning towards the man. "Just this moment proved to me that you're the right—no, you're the _only_ person for the job, Hak."

Hak allowed himself to bask in the brightness of her eyes. Her gaze was firm, intense, and he felt like a planet being pulled in by the gravitational orbit of the sun.

He forced himself to draw back, giving a sigh. "You don't even know me."

Upon hearing his response, Yona's gaze dimmed, though she didn't allow herself to falter. She had come this far, and she wouldn't take no for an answer. Digging into her satchel, she retrieved a small, wooden box.

"I know that you're a man motivated by practicality, and you already knew I was from Kuuto. I just need your help to take me there. Simple, right?" She beckoned for his hand, and as Hak obliged, she gave him the box.

"You don't have to decide right now." Yona continued. Curious, Hak removed the lid of the small box, his eyes widening when it revealed a hairpin, adorned with all kinds of gemstones and gleaming gold in the moonlight.

"I can't—"

"Take it," She urged, cutting him off before he could even fully voice his protest. Her lithe fingers pressed over his hands, forcing them to close over the wooden box. "I've been staying at the inn near the marketplace. Come find me and give it back when you've made your decision."

Hak was quiet. "... and what if I don't?" He asked in a challenging tone.

"If you don't, I'll assume that it's been stolen and report you to the authorities." When his brows furrowed, Yona couldn't help but give a cheeky laugh, sounding like little bells.

"Look, I'm not asking for a favor." She explained. "I'm offering a deal. A business transaction for your skills. That's it."

"So, what, is this both a bribe and a form of entrapment?" Hak inquired, motioning to the box.

Yona only gave him a mischievous grin. "Just a reason for you to find me."

He frowned slightly, feeling as if he just got hustled—and by someone who was less than twice his size. She wasn't as naive as he initially thought. Maybe it was all a part of her act.

Suddenly, it struck him that he didn't even know her name. "Who should I ask for?"

"Yona," the girl offered, giving him a smile.

* * *

That night, repressed memories came flooding back to haunt him.

He dreamed of a white dove, beating against its cage until its wings were covered in red. He dreamed of a field littered with bodies. He dreamed that he was running, running until his lungs felt like they had been set on fire, and behind him—

A pair of red eyes—

Hak awoke, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He stared up at his ceiling and welcomed the cool darkness of his room, letting the silence soothe over his racing mind and lull his still pounding heart.

Sitting up on his small cot, his gaze traveled over to the wooden box perched on top of a table.

If not for this one piece of trinket, he would have thought that the events today were just imaginary. The hairpin. The woman. _Yona_.

As if the name called itself out to him, Hak retrieved the wooden box and carefully took out the hairpin, marveling as the gemstones caught the scant moonlight that spilled into his small window and reflected it across the walls.

It reminded him of her, her undeniable charisma shining through despite the shroud she hid herself in. He sat himself down on his cot and ruminated over their meeting that night, all the small details that he subtly noted playing over and over in his head.

Her mischievous eyes. The intensity of her gaze. Her laugh, which sounded like wind-chimes as the breeze softly caressed it.

There was a slight pang in his chest as he suddenly grew wistful. Wistful of what, exactly? He wasn't sure. Maybe of life, before the war had ravaged the country. But he didn't want to remember, afraid that if he opened the scars up again, they wouldn't heal. However, nostalgia cared not for the wounds it ripped open.

Hak buried the hairpin back into its box and dropped back down onto the small cot. He hadn't set foot in Kuuto for nearly two years, and he had no intention of going back. Besides, that woman attracted trouble. She was just another privileged daughter of a wealthy family. She hadn't even heard of nadai. If that didn't confirm the distance of the realities they lived in, then nothing would.

And yet, the very thought of her both mystified and unnerved him. She was like the sun—vivid, intense, passionate. Her fire-red hair and amethyst eyes emblazoned itself across his mind. He couldn't get rid of her face, even if he wanted to. But like the sun, if he got too close, gazed too long, he would get burned.

Setting upon his decision, Hak closed his eyes—and for just this night—allowed her image to sear itself unto his mind.

* * *

The summer heat was stifling as Hak made his way to the bustling, crowded street of the marketplace. Stalls lined up the pathways on all sides as customers haggled with peddlers in competing voices. People darted by, around, and over him like hummingbirds. It was the closest thing to organized chaos he'd ever seen.

Some would say that a busy market meant that the city was thriving. But if the city was thriving, then the peddlers and vendors and the common people weren't made aware as they argued about prices and the quality of produce like their very lives depended on it. And in a significant way, it did. Many parts of Kouka were still largely unnoticed and untouched by the palace officials, leaving numerous cities and towns to fend and rebuild for itself after the war.

Continuing his trek, Hak finally spotted the branching alleyway that led to the small inn, where they had parted ways just the night before. It was flanked by a cafe to its left and a flower shop to its right.

He opened the door to the establishment, and a small bell jingled. An older woman with haggard features greeted him. "How can I help you, young man?"

"Is Yona here?" He inquired.

"Yona?" The older woman echoed quizzically. "There's no one staying here by that name."

The statement made Hak twist around, fully regarding the woman. Lips set into a grim line, he leveled his obsidian eyes at her. The woman seemed to falter under his steel gaze.

"She was here yesterday. I watched her enter this establishment myself." Hak stated coldly.

"She's not here anymore. She just left this morning." The older woman said, waving the matter off with forced indifference.

Hak could see through her like paper. Eyes narrowing, he suddenly took note of the woman's bloodshot eyes, her yellowing teeth, and her dull, brittle nails which tapped anxiously against a table— tell-tale signs of those who ingested large amounts of nadai.

"A-anyway," the woman stammered. "You just missed her. Now, I'll appreciate it if you left my inn, young man, and it's very disrespectful to glare at an older lady like that—"

Hak pounded his fist to the wall. Briefly, the lobby shook, filaments from the ceiling raining down on the table like snowflakes and revealing the inn's feeble structure. The woman abruptly shut her mouth.

It took an enormous measure of self-control to calm himself. How deeply had nadai already been entrenched in this town? If he hadn't noticed, then it was hypocritical of him to call Yona naive.

To think that a person would trade another human's life—would obstruct, lie, and stonewall around such depravity just to get their hands on more of the_ filth_.

An unfathomable anger burned inside him as her words echoed hollowly in his mind.

_Just a reason for you to find me_.

"Where is she?" Hak glowered.


End file.
